


wouf wouf

by Wargasms



Series: Hybrid Verse [2]
Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Animal Play, Bestiality, Depression, Dom/sub Undertones, Hybrids, M/M, Marijuana, Ownership, Pets, Recreational Drug Use, References to Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Self-Harm, Slavery, just to cover the bases
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-12 01:21:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wargasms/pseuds/Wargasms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern/Sort of Futuristic (in that they have the science to make human hybrid pets) Alternate Universe where Enjolras is a canine hybrid, Grantaire is trying to sort his life out, Jehan was really just trying to help and Bahorel is an awesome friend (and maybe a bit of an enabler).<br/>(ratings expected to change per chapter and tags added as needed)<br/>Bossuet and Joly own hybrid Courfeyrac.<br/>Feuilly has hybrid Combeferre.<br/>Maybe Marius will show up...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Spiraling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spiraling/gifts).



> see series notes for description of class 4 hybrids

“All of our rescues are put through comprehensive rehabilitation and evaluation before being allowed into retraining. Extensive testing and observation is done once they’ve completed retraining. Everything is humane and we pride ourselves on having the highest success rate,” the woman told them from behind her tiny desk in the broom closet of an office she had. “If I understand correctly, neither of you will be the owners, but living in the household?” 

“It’s for our roommate,” Bahorel began, but Jehan cut him off.

“We read the recent reports on the class 4 hybrids.”

“Yes, I see. We’ve definitely had more interest in them since that report came out.” She glanced at the computer monitor and clicked through a few files before continuing. “At the moment we only have two. The female is younger and a lower level of class 4, but she did remarkably well in retraining. The male is, well, honestly, if there was a class 5, he would be in it. He is older, for a rescue and in respect to how long ago he finished retraining. I can pull up more detailed information if one of them interests you.”

Jehan glanced to Bahorel, having one of those silent couple conversations, before nodding, “Yes, the male, please.”

She arched her brow at them but opened the file and let them read the report.

When they finished they asked to meet the male hybrid.

Jehan pronounced him perfect after only four minutes alone in the greeting room. Bahorel finalized all the paperwork while Jehan coaxed an over excited Enjolras into the backseat of their car.

_  
Enjolras was bored. Enjolras was lonely. Enjolras was sad.

He’d been so happy as a puppy with his brothers and sisters. Then they grew up and were given to owners. Enjolras had been given to an owner. He remembered being so excited and happy, but after a few months his owner got over the novelty and began to neglect Enjolras. 

Enjolras got bored, and lonely, and sad. Enjolras eventually disobeyed a time too many and his owner had beat him nearly to death. He doesn’t know how he made it to the rescue center, but that’s where he was in the next memory he can dredge up. His recovery was slow, because he was sad and didn’t want to heal. At least, that’s what the pretty blonde nurse had told him. 

She talked to him. Everyone here talked to him. He was special, they said, he was smart and he could learn. They praised him and loved him and trained him to be a good boy. 

Then had come the endless rollercoaster of potential owners coming to meet him yet always, always, leaving without him.

The brunette woman came to get him. She was always extra sweet with him, sneaking him one of his favorite peanut butter treats as she ordered him to heel. He could feel the same emotions at war inside his chest; that initial swell of hope, the nervous energy building along the familiar walk across the center to the greeting rooms. Only, now his mind supplied him with the inevitable let down that came after and he felt a sick twist in his belly along with it all.

She crouched to pet him soothingly when they got to the door, “Enjolras, calm down, honey. I know, I know, you’ve been waiting a long time, but these two, they didn’t even want to see anyone else. So, don’t freeze up, honey, come on.”

Enjolras leaned into her as she carded her hands through the curls at the back of his head; she scratched his ears where they poked out of his hair. Her other hand stroked down the trail of fur that follows his spine, patting him on his lower back then running over his tail. “You’re a good boy and I swear, if they don’t take you, I just might.”

Her kind words and the kiss she placed on his forehead before standing to open the door left Enjolras blinking back tears. He forced himself to at least act his best, trotting into the room and over to the men sitting on the bench. They both smiled warmly, letting him sniff their hands before one slid to the floor to pet him while the other crouched beside them. 

Enjolras couldn't stop his tail as it began to wag in response to the positive attention. He pressed into their hands and yipped softly to encourage more, licking over their fingers. It took him a moment to realize they were talking to him. He started at his name and looked up into the young man’s eyes. “Enjolras? They said you can talk.”

“Yes, sir,” Enjolras whispered.

The one beside them laughed and stroked his back fur as the other cupped his cheeks and lifted his face. “I’m Jehan, and this is my boyfriend, Bahorel. Can we have a few minutes alone, please?” Jehan directed the last question to the woman still standing by the doorway.

“Certainly, I’ll just be right out there,” she waved towards the window that looked back at her office.

“Thank you,” he waited until the door latched shut to continue to Enjolras, “They say you’re very smart, Enjolras, very trainable, and I would like to ask for your help.”

“Yes, sir?” Enjolras cocked his head to the side in confusion. He had never been asked for help. He knew the word, had heard others at the center use it, but never towards himself or another hybrid.

Bahorel spoke this time, Jehan watching Enjolras’ face, “We heard about your previous owner, they let us read your file. We have a friend who, well, he gets depressed, he needs someone to check in on him, but he resents us watching over him.”

Enjolras frowned and looked back to Jehan for his question, “Is ‘depressed’ like ‘sad’?”

“Yes, very sad. He gets upset and sad, he doesn’t want anyone to see him like that, but he doesn’t take care of himself either. We were hoping, he lives with us, you would live with us, and we would always make sure you were taken care of, but we’d like you to.. to watch him for us?” Jehan scratched Enjolras’ ear slowly as he tried to explain. “He’s not violent to other people but he--”

“Do you know what alcohol is?” Bahorel asked when Jehan paused.

“Yes, sir. It’s a human drink that sometimes makes them act funny.”

They both chuckled at that. Bahorel went on, “Well, he drinks, more than he should sometimes, which isn’t good for him, but then he, sometimes, he hurts himself, because the pain inside gets too strong. Do you, hell I don’t even understand it, but, we want you to understand what to look for and stay with him to make sure he doesn’t get too bad or hurt himself. Do you think you could do that?”

Jehan kissed Enjolras’ forehead before they both withdrew, sitting on the bench, awaiting his reply. He sat on his heels and took a moment to think about it. 

Enjolras could understand about being sad. He even sort of understood about hurting yourself; he’d done the same with his first owner, deliberately disobeying in order to earn attention, whether it was negative or not. Maybe this friend of theirs was bored and lonely like Enjolras was. “I can do that, sir. It would please me to help.”

“Perfect! Oh, perfect, you are perfect! Thank you, Enjolras,” Jehan beamed and they both stood. “Come then, let’s tell the lady so we can get you home.”

_  
Grantaire groaned and threw a pillow at Bahorel when the asshole barged into his room and bellowed, “Christ, man, it’s two in the afternoon, get your ass out of bed!”

“What for?” Grantaire croaked and wrapped himself in his blanket, turning his back to Bahorel.

“Jehan got you something,” Bahorel grinned, flinging himself onto the bed.

Grantaire rolled out of the way, tossed the blanket, blinding Bahorel long enough that he could climb out of his bed, rather than being pushed out, as Bahorel had surely planned. “Is it in a nice big bottle?”

“No,” Bahorel threw the blanket to the floor and followed a stumbling Grantaire from the bedroom.

“Then it’s not important enough to get me out of bed,” Grantaire quipped and made as if to turn back.

Bahorel caught him easily with one arm. It hadn’t always been easy for Bahorel to manhandle him. They used to be more evenly matched, but after Grantaire’s most recent episode, he still hadn’t built his strength back up. “He’s worried about you,” Bahorel said as he hugged Grantaire, suddenly uncharacteristically serious.

“I’m sorry,” Grantaire stiffened in the embrace.

“Grantaire!” Jehan called from the kitchen. “Are you just getting up?”

“No, after you guys left I got up and showered. Then I took a nap,” Grantaire answered as he flopped onto the couch, taking the middle seat, just to be a dick, and, maybe, so he wouldn’t have to watch them cuddle. Bahorel sat on the floor. Grantaire’s mouth shut with an audible snap as Jehan joined them in the living room.

At his heels was a human canine hybrid. A gorgeous blond male, wagging a short curly tail that matched a mop of them on his head, ears twitching where they peeked out. Blue eyes skittered around the room, bouncing off of Bahorel to land on Grantaire. It smiled at him, a hesitant shy little smile that Grantaire found himself attempting to return. “Who’s this?”

Jehan answered as the hybrid made its way to Bahorel, “His name is Enjolras.”

“I can’t believe you guys got a pet. That’s a huge step, really. How long do you have to keep it alive before I’m going to have to move out so there’s room for the baby?”

Jehan froze, looking stricken, Bahorel glared at Grantaire and said “No, I told you.”

“What? Oh, Jehan has someth-- No.”

“Yes, and you will thank Jehan,” Bahorel nearly snarled and Grantaire sighed.

“You got me a pet?” he whined to Jehan.

“Yes,” Jehan sat beside Grantaire and patted his lap. “Come here, Enjolras.” The hybrid hurried over and butted Jehan’s knee. He pet Enjolras’ head and murmured, “Such a good boy.”

Grantaire reached out to trap a curl between his fingers. Enjolras turned his attention to Grantaire, rubbing his nose over Grantaire’s fingers as he scented him. A long hot curling tongue licked over the digits, startling Grantaire. He smoothed back the curls that had fallen over Enjolras’ forehead before glancing at Jehan, “I can barely take care of myself, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Yes, it is. You’ll be home to take care of him. He’ll keep you company. It’s like another addition to your routine.” Bahorel moved to sit on the floor between Jehan’s legs, head tipped back for him to card his fingers through Bahorel’s hair.

“Right,” he smirked but held back the rest of his opinion. Really, Grantaire didn’t deserve such wonderful friends. They had stuck with him through the whole prolonged downward spiral. Bahorel had literally picked him up from what Grantaire considered his rock bottom. It was only with Jehan’s support that he had, Grantaire was sure, made it thus far in his first real attempt at sorting his fucking life out. (It is not nagging, no matter how it sometimes feels; Grantaire had to often remind himself.) But, it was hard to not feel like an utter child, and so sometimes a rebellious teenager, when he had a daily checklist of things that included a breakdown of personal hygiene and chores. “Right, okay, I guess. Thanks.”

Grantaire made sure Bahorel heard the thanks before patting his own chest. Enjolras lurched forward, wiggled his way up into Grantaire’s lap, tail thumping the cushion rapidly. “Hey there,” he murmured to Enjolras and allowed the hybrid to inspect him, sniffing at his neck, nosing at his hair, a quick lick at Grantaire’s earlobe. 

“Whoa, hey there,” he repeated himself to cover a shiver. Grantaire sunk his fingers into the hair behind Enjolras’ ears and tugged him back so Grantaire could see his face. Enjolras smiled boldly this time, letting his tongue lull free before licking up Grantaire’s chin, lips and nose.

“Ack! No!” Grantaire pulled away, earning the laughter of all three of them. Grantaire let out a chuckle, but it was more at the realization that he hadn’t thought Enjolras could laugh, for some reason. “Knock it off,” he said to them all and pressed Enjolras’ face to his neck, hands smoothing down Enjolras’ back fur as the warmth and pressure of the hybrid settled against him.

“There’s a folder on the counter, you need to read the pamphlets. Everything you need to know is there. We bought him a bunch of stuff, toys and treats, oh and food, enough for a couple weeks at least, don’t worry about that,” Jehan babbled on. Grantaire had stopped listening.

Enjolras was now straddling Grantaire’s lap; hands tucked behind Grantaire’s back, parted lips pressed to Grantaire’s skin where his face was tucked to the crook of Grantaire’s neck. Enjolras hips squirmed each time Grantaire stroked his tail, rubbing against a growing situation in Grantaire’s pants.

“Okay,” he said aloud, to no one in particular.


	2. Chapter 2

Enjolras was happy; his owner was beautiful, smelled wonderful and his skin tasted delicious. Enjolras knew humans didn’t think of other humans this way, but anyone who had ever been good to Enjolras had at least one of those traits. His new owner had all three. Enjolras was very happy.

He pressed his nose into Grantaire’s hair, breathing in his scent. As the three talked, Grantaire’s hands fell away. Enjolras stilled and realized he had become aroused. It didn’t happen often when he wasn’t in heat, but it wasn’t unusual either. Still, he didn’t know how Grantaire would react, so Enjolras moved, stretching out on the couch, draping his chest across Grantaire’s lap, head pillowed on his forearms. Jehan played with Enjolras’ hair for a moment, drawing Bahorel’s attention and brilliant smile.

Grantaire shifted, Enjolras felt the stiff line of his owner’s hard on press into his side. The thought that he was also aroused made the ache between Enjolras’ legs stronger. It was nothing like the demand of heat, so it was bearable and Enjolras ignored it. Maybe it was normal for a new owner and their pet to react this way; he couldn’t remember specifics of meeting his first owner.

Unable to make sense of it, Enjolras stopped worrying. Besides, Grantaire’s fingers were combing through his hair and that was more important. It definitely made Enjolras feel better than worrying did. He sighed in contentment as Grantaire scratched at his ear, smoothed his hair back from his face. Turning his head, he licked Grantaire’s palm.

This time Grantaire didn’t admonish him or even pull away. His fingers brushed over Enjolras’ cheek, followed the line of his jaw then cupped his chin. Enjolras tipped his head back for Grantaire to scratched under his chin. When he began to pull his hand back, Enjolras caught his fingers playfully between his teeth, letting his tongue flick over each before releasing them.

It seems the conversation had ended, Bahorel stood, Jehan followed him. Enjolras watched them go, suddenly nervous to be alone with Grantaire.

“Down,” Grantaire said with a pat to Enjolras’ head. He slid off Grantaire’s lap to the floor and backed up to watch Grantaire. The man stood with a groan and a full bodied stretch that bared his stomach as his shirt rode up, pants slung low around his hips. Enjolras found himself panting through his open mouth, drooling at the sight of his owner’s bare skin.

He followed Grantaire, wondering if that skin tasted the same as the skin on his neck. Hands and fingers always smelled and tasted less like a human and more like where they’ve been. He could still get a sense of them, but it was stronger in other places, like their hair, neck, underarms, crotch. Before he could spend too long on that thought, Enjolras ran into the bathroom door as Grantaire was trying to close it.

“Shit! You okay? Little privacy? I mean, we’ve only just met.” Grantaire reached down to stroke his hair, before slowly shutting the door.

Enjolras sat blinking at the door for a moment then made his way back to the kitchen to get some water. Bahorel had set up his bowls on a mat by the counter, Jehan had set a bag on the floor, in which Enjolras spied a box of his favorite treats. The same peanut butter ones from the center; someone must have told them. Grantaire found him nosing the bag open.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” He shooed Enjolras away and picked up the bag, emptying the contents onto the counter. When he pulled the box free, Enjolras pawed at his leg with a soft whine. “Oh, you want a treat, then? Sit.”

Enjolras spun in an excited circle before sitting, tail thumping the floor as he stared up at Grantaire, waiting for the next command. Grantaire opened the box and fished out a treat before smiling down at Enjolras, “Let’s see, beg?”

Shifting onto his knees, Enjolras curled his hands and brought them up, mouth hanging open as his eyes zero in on the treat.

“That’s too easy. How about... play dead.”

Enjolras grinned before giving a mock wince and toppling onto his back, lying absolutely still.

“Bravo! Here,” Grantaire laughed at his antics and held the treat out. He scrambled back up to get it, taking the chance to lick Grantaire’s fingers again. While he was eating, Grantaire got a glass of ice water and started to leave the kitchen. Enjolras almost bumped into him when Grantaire stopped short to ask, “Do you need to go outside?”

Grantaire motioned to the back door. Enjolras didn’t; he shook his head, rubbed up against Grantaire’s legs and trotted back into the living room.

They headed down the hall and into Grantaire’s bedroom. It was small and a mess; someone had dumped the rest of the bags with Enjolras’ things on the bed. “Huh, think maybe they went a little overboard?” Grantaire muttered. Setting his drink on the nightstand, he began to look through the folder that had come from the center.

Enjolras lowered his head and made a slow circuit of the room, sniffing at everything. There were piles of clothes on the floor, one of them smelled more of Grantaire than the other. Enjolras nosed through those, spreading the clothes out around him before curling up on his side on top of them, watching his owner.

He sat on the foot of the bed, folder open before him, reading a pamphlet and occasionally making quite comments to himself. Enjolras let his eyes droop almost closed, breathing deep of his owner’s scent, smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Grantaire growled and tossed the pamphlet back into the folder, “I mean, couldn’t they have started me off with a goldfish?” Enjolras jerked at the noise. Grantaire glanced up and apologized, then he noticed where Enjolras was sitting. “Sorry. Hey, come on that’s-- well, that’s dirty clothes, so I guess it doesn’t matter.”

Enjolras snuggled into the dirty clothes and the smell of Grantaire enveloped him. His owner gave a shrug, turned to the bags. One held a bed for Enjolras. How it held the bed seemed a mystery, surely the plastic should have burst apart in the attempt. He managed to get it onto the floor and yank the bag away; it unfurled into a round cushion, slightly larger than the pile of clothes Enjolras was occupying.

“Well, that’s better, huh?” Grantaire mused. Enjolras eyed it warily. “What? You can’t possibly prefer my dirty clothes. This is brand new!”

Enjolras thought it did look less lumpy, but he could smell the store on it from here, invading the room. He turned his face back into the shirt underneath him.

Grantaire rolled off his bed and sat on the floor next to the cushion, holding up a red collar. “How about this, then?”

Enjolras immediately came bounding over and sat between his splayed legs. Grantaire pet Enjolras for a silent moment, letting the Enjolras cuddle up to him. Sliding off the cheap one from the center, Grantaire replaced it with the new collar, careful to check it wasn’t too tight as he buckled it around Enjolras’ neck. There was already a tag hanging from it. 

A huge smile splitting his face, chest tight with emotions, Enjolras was overjoyed to have a proper collar again. Grantaire gripped his tag in his hand and Enjolras watched his face fall, tears welling.

“This is a bad idea,” Grantaire groaned. Laying back, he ended up on the cushion, one arm under his head as he spoke to the ceiling. “What were they thinking? I seriously can’t even take care of myself. I get in the shower sometimes and just stand there. I don’t even have the energy to wash. If he knew, if Jehan knew... This is just one more thing I’ll fail at, one more reason Jehan should just give up on me. Oh god, I can’t do this.”

Enjolras whined in confusion. No, he didn’t want someone else. Grantaire was his owner now, he had given Enjolras a pretty new collar. Jehan said they would make sure everything was okay. He didn’t want Grantaire to be sad, but he didn’t know what to do, so Enjolras curled up against Grantaire’s side, chin resting on his chest. Grantaire’s free arm wrapped around him, hand resting in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I’m sorry,” Grantaire finally met his eyes and forced a smile. “You’re stuck with me, I guess.”

Enjolras really didn't see that as a bad thing, but he could tell by his tone that Grantaire did. He stretched up and placed a kiss on Grantaire’s chin. It wasn’t anything he’d ever done before, kiss anyone, human or hybrid, but he had wanted to. Grantaire gave him a real smile this time. “Yeah, yeah, ‘stop with the pity party’. I hear ya.”

They lay there for a while, Grantaire slowly carding his fingers through Enjolras’ hair. He seemed to calm down, fought off the tears and whatever fears had been plaguing him a moment ago. Enjolras was just about to drift into a nap when he heard someone moving around outside Grantaire’s room.

Grantaire sighed, “Shit, come on, I gotta do the dishes before Jehan tries to make dinner.”

Enjolras reluctantly let him sit up and dutifully followed Grantaire around as he finished his chores for the day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mentions of a hybrid!Courfeyrac and Bossuet/Joly. alcohol and drug use, mind the new tags.

The tag on Enjolras’ collar listed Grantaire as his owner, the house address and phone number, along with Grantaire’s, Jehan’s and Bahorel’s cell. It made sense, if Grantaire couldn’t be reached, of course, to have their numbers as well. It should not have overwhelmed him with shame at how unreliable he is, but the tears overpowered Grantaire, and poor Enjolras, who had been beaming at him, grew distressed.

He had tried to fight it off, babbling to the hybrid. Enjolras curled up against him and that had felt good. Even better, his arm around Enjolras, fingers buried in the soft hair. Enjolras’ soft lips chastely brushing over his chin, though, had been the best. Grantaire found himself smiling.

The time flew by, which was odd. Jehan allowed him wine with dinner. They all had some with the food, but afterward he was given the rest of the bottle to himself. So, usually, the hours leading to dinner were the longest of Grantaire’s day. Today though, anxiety bled away as he watched Enjolras. He was staring really, because Enjolras was stunning; perfectly sculpted beauty that enthralled Grantaire. Too soon Grantaire heard someone one in the kitchen and he remembered he needed to do the dishes.

Enjolras followed Grantaire as he took out all the trash, Bahorel helping him take the cans down to the curb. Grabbing a ball and tug rope from his room, they took Enjolras into the backyard. He played fetch and tug with Enjolras while Bahorel fired up the grill. Enjolras moved gracefully and entirely too fast to be human, cavorted across the yard, hair turning into a tangled mane haloing his face that split in a huge smile as he chased the ball.

Enjolras wore himself out, no longer fighting so hard to tug the rope away, taking his time to come back after Grantaire threw the ball. Mostly he was just leaning into Grantaire for petting and praise. Enjolras' body was covered in a slight sheen of sweat from the exertion, panting for breath, pressing against Grantaire, who let his hands stroke over every muscle. Once Enjolras settled down, Grantaire sat at the table on the back porch in the blessed shade. He smiled gratefully when Bahorel snuck out a cold beer for each of them, a water bottle for Enjolras.

Stashing the beer from view, Grantaire opened the water bottle for Enjolras. The hybrid crawled in to kneel between his legs, leaning forward, and mouth open. Grantaire hesitated, suddenly nervous, before cupping Enjolras’ chin to let him take a long drink.

Enjolras let out an appreciative sound when Grantaire pulled the bottle back, blinding Grantaire with an adoring smile. He wrapped his arms around Grantaire’s leg and rested his cheek on Grantaire’s thigh, facing out to watch Bahorel drop steaks onto the grill. Facing out was good, otherwise he may have seen what Grantaire was desperate to hide.

Grantaire sat back, flushed and confused by his reaction, set the water on the table and chugged his beer.

“So, are you really okay with this?” Bahorel asked, taking a seat across the table from Grantaire.

Grantaire looked down at Enjolras, soothing his twitching ear before answering, “It’s just sudden. Isn’t it?”

“I guess for you. He’s been talking to me about it since Joly and Bossuet got one,” Bahorel snagged their empty beer bottles and disposed of them discreetly, just before Jehan joined them. “What’s their hybrid’s name?”

“Courfeyrac,” Jehan supplied, taking Bahorel’s chair as he tended to the steaks. “After you two get settled, we should take Enjolras over to meet him. Feuilly’s been leaving his there a lot because he’s gone for work so much. I guess they get lonely.”

Enjolras perked up as Bahorel took the steaks off the grill, disentangling himself from Grantaire to follow Bahorel into the kitchen, nose in the air. They came in to make their plates, but it was nice enough out under the shade of the porch that they ate out there. Enjolras began begging as soon as Grantaire sat.

“You, you have your own food,” he told Enjolras, turning to ask Jehan, “Is he allowed to eat this stuff? Shit, I just read all that crap and I don’t remember a thing.”

Bahorel chuckled around a mouthful, “They can eat what we eat.”

“Yes, well, how we should eat. You can’t just give him junk, just like you need to stop eating junk--”

Grantaire cut Jehan off, “Okay, I got it.” He cut a piece of his steak for Enjolras, who was nearly having a fit trying to sit still beside Grantaire’s chair. When he tried to offer it on the end of his fork, Enjolras shied away, so he had to feed the hybrid by hand, enduring the innocent brush of Enjolras’ tongue. Not so innocent, the groan Enjolras made as he chewed. Grantaire fed Enjolras with his left hand as he handled his fork with his right, splitting his plate, giving Enjolras sips of water when he had his wine. He wiped Enjolras’ mouth gently with his napkin when they were done, Grantaire ignoring Jehan’s prodding to get a second helping.

“Come on, even giving him half, that’s more than I’ve eaten in one meal for a while, so lay off,” Grantaire stood to grab the bottle of wine, topped off their glasses before settled back in his chair with it. Enjolras curled up around his leg again; chin resting on Grantaire’s knee, eyes resolutely tracking the bottle as he raised it to his lips. Grantaire almost felt like Enjolras disapproved, but disapproval, from anyone, had never stopped Grantaire before. He cleared nearly half of what was left in one long pull.

They talked for a while, of plans for tomorrow, plans for next week; there were a lot of plans to be made and followed if one wanted to become a responsible adult. Grantaire just wasn’t sure he would ever feel like an adult, besides the fact, he seriously doubted he could pull off the responsible part. Enjolras rubbed his cheek against Grantaire’s thigh, eyes closed with a small grin, he looked happy and Grantaire wondered what he was thinking about.

It startled them both when Jehan stood, gathering the plates. “No, it’s fine, you guys do your thing, bring the rest in when you’re done,” he said when Grantaire made to stand as well, displacing Enjolras, who took off into the yard away from immediate view, probably going to the bathroom.

Bahorel was lighting a joint. “Wait so; he’s cool with it now?”

“No, but we’re not going to fight about it anymore,” Bahorel answered and took the seat next to Grantaire so they could pass the joint without much bother.

Grantaire traded off the wine for the joint, it was almost empty anyway, watching Enjolras amble across the yard as he took a couple hits and handed it back. “How does that work?”

“I smoke outside and he turns a blind eye?”

“Good luck with that,” Grantaire wheezed as he exhaled, shaking his head.

“Yeah, right? But let’s face it, I’m not going to quit and he’s not going to leave me over it, so,” Bahorel trailed off with a shrug, handing the joint back and calling Enjolras over. He scooped up the ball and carried it over to Bahorel, taking off after it as exuberant as he’d been earlier. Grantaire he wished he had Enjolras’ energy.

“I don’t know what I’d do if you two…” Grantaire frowned and gave Bahorel the joint. “I’m good.”

Enjolras brought the ball back to Grantaire, nuzzling his hand until Grantaire took it and pitched it back across the yard.

Bahorel scoffed, “Look, man, I’m going to marry him one day. This is all just… foreplay.”

“I’m not the reason you’re waiting, right?”

“Dude, my God, buzzkill! No! I’m not ready yet. And I don’t care if you live with us forever, so, shut up,” Bahorel licked his fingers before tamping out the cherry and stashing the roach away.

“Okay, yeah okay,” Grantaire drank the last of the wine and took the ball from Enjolras. “No more. Come on, inside.”

Bahorel clapped Grantaire on the shoulder as they stood, the hybrid following them into the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> awkward sexxytimes of the dubious nature coming in next chapter

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what I'm doing, but thanks for comen down the rabbit hole with me.


End file.
